Summer in Greece is the sound of small waves lapping persistently but slightly unevenly on the sand. It’s the breeze that blows gently by the shore, the sound of cicadas that reaches a fever pitch when the temperature shoots up and the wind stops completely.
It’s the faint smoky smell of mosquito coils being lit up at night to ward the pests off, the delicious wafting of rotisseries being started up as tavernas open up for dinner, the sound of old men and women who never learned to use an indoor voice gathering to chat.
I can close my eyes and see the blinding glare of the sun on the bleached sidewalks, the way the light sparkles all day on the blue water, followed by the mellow clarity of sunset and the moon shining its white column on the dark sea. By now, I honestly think I can picture what the sea looks like every hour of every day.
Summer is the laughter and music drifting out of restaurants and bars where everyone is sitting outside, louder, softer, louder again as you keep walking past.
It’s the memories of my childhood and teenage years, long nights waiting to see what might happen next, endless walks in Syros trying to find the best shortcut to the town square, the clanging of the church bell every hour on the hour at my grandfather’s village in the hills of Lefkada, nostalgia and several lifetimes of family and friends and laughter and heartaches in years past and happiness and excitement for the future experiences and memories yet to be formed.
All that to say…glad to be here ❤️
📸: @kay_riv13
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